A pause

in his walk to glance


the curve in the road

hides who is following him

shadows bend like light around the sun

he resumes walking, 

whistling with every step

the headache recedes 

as he approaches the end of the road

he smiles when he hears sound of the ocean

he sits on a log on the sandy beach

watches the waves, the earth’s breathing

imagining God enjoying the sight

before the creation of man.


“Joy like a river in her soul”, words of a young boy

Sharing his mother’s state of being. 

A town nestled next to a river

How does one tear down and build anew?

River dredging begins Flood Control Master Plan.

Town awakens, sounds of bulldozers and cranes, 

People wearing helmets working

Design to demolish, preserve, develop, convert

Empty complexes, aging structures, dormant land 

Long deliberations in what the town needs:

Hotels, shops, restaurants, or something abstract

Community park in summer turns flood diversion space in winter.

Building a promenade on riverfront, 

Passageway along railroad tracks,

Connecting Vine Trail, continuity without impediments

Collaboration with artists and role of the arts,

A time for coffee and twisted cinnamon rolls.

One accent, the Passages, a segment of passageway 

Once a haven for graffiti’s passion and restlessness

Now a channel for artistic expressions,

Vivid, vibrant, living project

Come, look, linger, get involve.

Walking home I hum a Dave Brubeck’s tune

I prepare smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwich, 

A bowl of peach yogurt and blackberries for lunch.

I take my time. I do not eat with haste.

Like town dreamers, like my friends

I, too, have choices and concerns

Should I join the frenzy of high technology

Pulsing reminders of “constantly possible productive moments”

Or walk with artists and pilgrims in shared humanity

Learn value of life, bear the task, persevere?

In my solitary walk, my mind can’t remain still

How will the young boy paint the river?

Let image follow imagination like spells of delight

Art’s idea whispers, shouts, bends then leaps to clarity

A journey of praise of what one truly loves.

In art and life, one will leave one day, the other stays.

I will write my praise.


The kayakers arrive in the dock 

Like fugitives who don’t want to leave

They glide and linger in the water

Their green, yellow and red flotation vests bright in the sun

Their eyes are wide like a mountain of joy

They disembark and thank their guide

And talk incessantly of returning

They live faraway.

A Path

The child sweeps the leaves on the path that leads to the house

In the morning, and in the afternoon

He sweeps the path everyday

As if dancing , sways on the right, then on the left

Rhythmic like his heart beat

His face, serene, without expression, 

As if praying.

After he finishes he puts away the broom, 

Returns to his room, picks up a book

And resumes reading.

A Surprise

I look up, straighten my body

Tired from digging clams in the sand during the lowest tide

Find myself looking at a cow walking on the beach

as if in a dream

Then I remember the sign on the road to watch out for cattle when I drove by

I start laughing loud and happy

The interconnectedness in the world,

Relationship is with everything around us,

One family., full of surprises and delicacy.


The rhythm of the day

Is the rhythm of life

Each day is a gift

To transform ourselves.

Each day is a  praise of God.

Compline entrusts us to our faith

To turn tumult of the day to silence

Before we sleep we ask ourselves:

Did I miss God passing by?

We pray for God’s mercy and love:

Preserve us for another day.